Big Mama's Birthday

Yes folks, the rumors are true. Mommy is 44 years old today.

Woke up to a light rain falling on our summer cottage. I was in a cozy bed under warm quilts. Just me, my husband, my son and my dog. It was a tight fit but everyone wanted to get into the act of falling asleep with mom on Ellen-eve.

We all had a lovely breakfast and headed out to Provincetown where I finally got a chance to weave in and out of art galleries. If only I had the money to buy art...until then we'll just have to make it at home.

We ate at the Lobster Pot (see above pic). This restaurant is the height of culinary achievement in Benjamin's eyes. It is a very reliable place to eat (even Gourmet recommends it!) and it's customary to go there at least once during your stay out here. What makes us laugh is how very adament Ben is about us patronizing the place. Mama mia - the boy still eats off the kiddie menu!

Afterwards Ben and Brian presented me with my VERY OWN Boston Red Sox baseball cap. I also got a great book on meditiation written by Pema Chodron, the well known female Tibetan Buddist monk. I also gave myself the gift of joining up with my writing mentor/editor again after a long break filled with self doubt.

We went for a walk on a deserted bay beach with Saki, happy to be the only people in sight for miles. Afterwards we went home for a dinner made by yours truly. Clam chowder, a cold lobster salad and a nice white wine followed by an excellent Carvel ice cream cake! I made Ben a "crabby patty" a la Sponge Bob Square Pants. Basically, a crab cake topped with chopped pickle, tomato, mustard, ketchup and lettuce on a toasted sesame seed bun. According to Ben - it's the closest we'll ever get to cracking the secret recipe.

Brian just finished drilling us with Trivial Pursuit questions. Ben knew all the history answers. I knew all the ridiculous answers.

As I blew out the candles, I felt so grateful to be living in a safe environment with a healthy family, a job, a cool dog and a lot of laughter. People in Israel never have that sense of safety we take for granted every day, nor do people in Iraq, Gaza or Afghanistan...or parts of this country where people fight violence and poverty everytime they step out the door with their children.

In some small way, I know that what I do for a living helps move things forward - if only just a bit. My father always says that education is the great equalizer. I couldn't agree more.

Now help me blow out those candles and make a wish!

Close Encounters of the WASP Kind

So I'm standing at the deli counter at a grocery store in Provincetown silently waiting my turn.
The woman before me places her order. She is blond, ivory white, in a crisp summer outfit.
And then she spoke....

"Yes, could you please give me a half pound of the chicken breast or the turkey breast please. What's most important is that it should be extremely dry. That's how we like it. Which would you suggest to be the driest of the white meats?"

My jaw dropped. Having been raised by an Italian mother that request is tantamount to saying "please direct me to your most burned piece of toast, the more charred the better."

I knew that voice. She was the replica of my mother in law only forty years younger.

Do you know how much time I spent in therapy discussing the "food issues" around WASP family gatherings during the holidays? I'll never forget when my mother in law put a three pound roasted chicken down on the table to feed five people. My husband could have eaten the whole thing! At first I thought she was angry at us but then I came to understand that what she hated was the need to eat food. I took my wonderful therapist's advice -eat before you get there and there won't be any more tears of confusion or hunger.

Of course if I wanted a martini, they would gladly hand me a Methuselah sized bottle of gin and send me on my way - - no questions asked.

Go figure.

Summertime

I'm having such a wonderful vacation.

This is the first time since childhood that I've ever gone to the cape for three straight weeks. Every morning I go for a walk at around 6.45 am. It's a magical hour. Very few cars, just the fisherman types driving by in their trucks and a few high powered bike riders.

During this walk I thank God for all that I have and for this beautiful world we live in. I ask for guidance on how to be an instrument for good and how I can somehow alleviate suffering in other people's lives.

If there was a class for remedial praying - I would be in it, including remedial praying summer school. Most of the time God must be reacting to my prayers by thinking "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what the hell is she actually trying to say?"

Katrina

I heard that there will be a documentary on HBO in the next week or so made by Spike Lee titled The Day the Levees Broke. Wish I could catch that one but I'm far from the land of cable consciousness here in my sleepy sea village.

Maybe I still haven't gotten over reading Gone With the Wind but the more I think about it the more that the Federal response to Katrina seems like a mutation of the Reconstruction. It seems like people in New Orleans should be seething in anger at this country. That place is still a friggin hell hole. Is it because most of that city was poor and black?

And why hasn't the press stayed on it?

By the Sea

We spent four hours at Longnook Beach today. It's a wild beach. Huge dunes and untamed waves. Everywhere you turned there were seals, blue fish, minnows - - and they had no intention of leaving because of a few freckled nude and semi nude humans.

Ben asked us what animal we would be if we couldn't be human. We were mulling that one over when he said "there's no way I'd ever be a butterfly". I asked why and he said "because butterflies don't ever know their mommies". He has no idea what those words meant to me.

Brian spends most of his time in the ocean. Swimming out too far, weaving through the waves with the slickness of a seal. He is so happy in the water. Out there all by himself. He stays out so long that I finally got him to wear a thermal swim shirt and shorts. It's pretty clear that he's just visiting us here on dry land. His heart is lost somewhere in the Atlantic.

Unraveling

I'm up on the far end of the Cape with Ben and Brian.

Three weeks of ocean, bay, woods, cooking, hiking, reading, swimming, writing, biking, sleeping, music and I forget what else...

I'm slowly forgetting where I live and what I do for a living.

Red Alert

Liquid bombs.

What will people think of next? How do governments keep ahead of all these terrorist schemes? It's just too much.

What is motivating these rageful acts? Is it because thousands of people have died in Iraq and now one thousand in Lebanon - - and no one intervened? Is the message to these people that some lives are worth more than others? That a dead Lebanese child or Iraqi child means less than an American or an Israeli? And why are some of these Muslim sects determined to kill each other?

Why does Iran want to "wipe Israel off the face of the earth"? If I lived in Israel with my son -- how would I want my government to react to that statement with Hezbollah a stone's throw away from my door?

I wish I understood the history of the middleast better - so I could understand what motivates these actions - where the rage comes from and the desperation.

Branson, Missouri

I have a very sketchy idea of what Branson, MO is all about. But I'll tell you one thing. This country needs tons more with lots of variations on the theme!

First of all, it keeps entertainers employed long after they fall out of fashion. It helps me to sleep better knowing that Tony Orlando, Joey Heatherton and the entire cast of Hee Haw have gigs and health benefits.

I also like the idea that the performances are all hours of the DAY and EVENING. I wouldn't mind going to see Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Chrissy Hines or anybody else for that matter at 2pm instead of 11pm. Who gives a rat's ass as long as the music is good.

If only there could be a P.S.122 or spiegeltent in every state.

Someday.

Below the Mason Dixon Line

Recently I chatted with a few colleagues at work trying to identify what we would consider American Icons.

Both friends quickly suggested that the novel Gone With the Wind was surely among the top ten. I'd seen the movie but never read the book.

Well...I'm reading it now. Perhaps it isn't at the pinnacle of American Literature but I have to say that I find it a complex and fascinating story. As a matter of fact - - someone should remake Gone With the Wind - - with a screenplay that more fully honors the novel.

Since I'm on a role I also rented Cold Mountain. It's a great movie - - a painful movie, but I'm glad I saw it.

Rhett Butler was right. Almost all wars are about money and greed. It's a rich man's war and a poor man's fight. Just like Iraq. Nothing's changed.

Shock and Awe

Sorry folks. It's difficult to post when violence in the middle east continues to escalate out of control.

Bodies continue to pile up in Iraq. Isn't the number over 2500 troops and over 100,000 civilians? Now Lebanon is decimated with children dying at a faster rate than the Hezbollah militants. People in Israel live in constant fear as well.

Some members of the press suggest that the latest military activity in Lebanon is based on the "clean break" strategy developed several years ago by US neocons and Israeli conservatives. I googled "clean break" cheney and came up with a long list of supporting documents and commentary. I'm not in a position to know if this strategy is in fact being used as a blue print or not...but there are similarities and it scares me.

How long before someone makes a statement here?

You Found a WHAT WHERE?

Could someone please explain how a four foot yellow snake entered into the lobby of our front building?

I'm pretty sure that's a first in the seventy five years my family has lived here.

Granted, there is a courtyard with small gardens between the two buildings but it isn't a nature conservancy by any stretch of the imagination.

Possible causes:

1. Someone East Village drug addict just realized their pet snake is missing.

2. It's an initial sign of the impending Rapture that George W. Bush is looking forward to.

3. A scare tactic made by a maniacal real estate developer in an effort to get his hands on skyrocketing property - currently inhabited by actors, writers, social workers, artists, musicians, other nice people and pets.

Look, I'm a New Yorker. Other than household pets, my version of urban wildlife is rats, mice, roaches, waterbugs, flys and pigeons.

Snakes are not in my portfolio.

Yikes

This Israeli war against Lebanon is scaring the heck out of me.

It is terrifying to hear stories of terrified children and adults on both sides - hiding, running out of supplies, full of fear.

And as a New Yorker, I fear what actions could be taken here to make a point.

This Blood's For You

That was the name of the song the Christian rock singer belted out this evening in Tompkins Square Park. He had a PA system with taped background music which was sometimes enhanced by two or three actual musicians also on the stage.

About twenty people were watching - mostly fellow Christians from the fellowship headquarters near by. There weren't any cops around like there are during skin head jamborees or other impromptu performances in the park.

Why do I feel like I'm living in chapter three of The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood).

In all fairness, it is a free country and no one was trying to hit me with a baseball bat. They just don't believe that I should have control over my own body and that committed gay couples shouldn't have the right to marry and enjoy the priveleges that come with a family life.

I wonder how people would have reacted to a Muslim musical outreach? and how many police would be there?

WAY TO GO ITALIA!!!!!!!

Italy Wins The World Cup!
They are victorious and ten times better looking than the French!!!
WAY TO GO BABY!!!!!

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore

How does it feel? To be without a home. Like a complete unknown. Like a rolling stone.

My son is staying with my parents for three days. After a while, frantically juggling your kid and work ceases to be cute to anyone involved. Million dollar day camp starts Monday.

At about 3pm, Brian emailed me with the realization that we had FREE TIME TO HANG OUT.
We got together and went to have dinner across the park on Avenue B. My brother told me to check out Mercadito between East 11th and East 12th. Very nice.

One problem. Where the hell was I? Avenue B looks like Brooklyn Heights. The buildings are all cleaned up. All the store fronts are swanky boutiques and cafes. Everyone at our very nice restaurant was swanky. At closer look I realized that my neighborhood is filling up with ridiculous gift stores...like the store around the corner on East 10th street with the unlimited number of flavored olive oils. Wasn't it just yesterday when no one cooked in my neighborhood and the alleged corner grocery store was neither a grocery or a store in the legal sense?

One block down Avenue B in another cleaned up building was the Tompkins Square Gospel Fellowship. I think they are related to an imported Christian youth group that recently decided to hanker down in our neighborhood this summer. These teenagers are instructed to approach children playing in the park like my eight year old son and invite him to particpate in Christian basketball camp. Blatantly approaching children without parents near them is not cool.

Hmm...what would Jesus do...I think Jesus would say "Hey guys, I understand that your heart is in the right place but the next time you go up to children under 13 without their parents present I will rip you a new asshole."

Even the Hare Krishnas, the Mormons, Jews for Jesus, and friggin Scientologists haven't pulled that stunt yet (although they will take your blood pressure in Times Square). Leave conversion issues to parents and direct solicitation of children in city parks to pedaphiles.

And leave Tompkins Square Park to children, dog runs, plants, performance art, homeless people, skate board dudes, people hanging out and drag queen festivals.

I'm losing my fucking mind

Not only did I forget my new email password.

I forgot my email name and how to even get to the email site.

They only give you two options

- check the box if you forgot your email name

- check the box if you forgot your email password

what I need is

- check the box if you can't remember a fucking thing about setting this email up

Is it July yet?

I've attempted to post several times recently but feel totally uninspired.

I'm just not a June person. Never was. Too many transitions.

We also go out to San Francisco each year in June to visit my brother in law and his partner in San Rafael. Right now both are battling severe (perhaps terminal) liver problems brought about by years of dealing with HIV. Their bravery and endurance levels are beyond extraordinary.

David and Harry (and their three Bassett hounds) seemed geniunely happy to welcome us into their home. They put so much energy into their hospitality that for a brief time I'd forget they were ill. When you enter their world you become accustomed to their periodic naps, their otherwise fit bodies holding up bellies filled with fluid, and their daily morning medical treatments (injections, medications). It's the in between moments that you focus on -- as they do.

It also occured to me just how much illness my son has grown up around. He is not a stranger to seeing what loved ones look like after repeated rounds of chemo or HIV related illnesses. Ben is not afraid of these things. It just comes with the package of loving people. But I do think he is afraid of losing them. And I do not have an answer for that because I am too.

Something about Northern California feels so kind to me. It's a good place to rest for a while. I need a rest. I need to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Crazed

Ben's school days are winding down.

The last day is June 13th - awful early in New York State. For the last two weeks I've been camping out at school as an audience member for two of his plays, board meetings, and mixed media class autobiographies (wow have times changed since my childhood days of overhead projectors). Oh yeah...and I go to my full time job somewhere in there.

God bless day camp in July!

The next two weeks will include a brief visit to San Francisco to visit my brother in law and his partner. Sadly both are not well...but we remain hopeful. The rest of the time will be spent juggling my son between the both of us at home and at work with mercy playdates sprinkled as liberally as possible.

On a positive note, I am addicted to the Steven Cobert Report (Comedy Central).

Excuse me while I kiss the sky.....

What Jimi Hendrix has to do with my dog Saki and his supermodel-for-a-day status will remain in the eternal clutter of my subconscious.

In my profile I mentioned that Saki was on the cover of an international magazine.

Voila! Here he is with my son Ben's legs resting upon him.

They styled one of the inside photos to look like Saki trashed the couch and passed out...kinda like a young Johnny Depp.

Believe it or not - the magazine got tons of letters from irate Westie owners protesting the pose. Saki is an artist - he can't be expected to live within the narrow social margins of the National Kennel Club - he must express himself freely. These pictures were Saki's way of lashing out against the oppression and excesses of capitalism. Perhaps one day the world will catch up with his genius. Until then, a milk bone or two will have to suffice.

Parental Guidance Suggested

Brian and I take great joy in being attentive, loving parents to Benjamin. But for the past few weeks, all three of us have been slacking off. Not at work or school but definitely at home.

Like if one person thinks it's a good idea to go eat candy, cookies, ice cream - at any time or for any reason, we all do it. No one is picking up their clothes. Drawings, books and cds are scattered everywhere. My dog Saki has been sleeping on top of the mountain of winter clothes waiting to be stored away.

These days, my dinners are mediocre at best with lots of leftovers going Saki's way.

It takes a single sigh of resignation for all of us to immediately flee to Veselka for sauerkraut perogis or turkeyburger deluxes.

We're acting like a bunch of junior high kids living together with no parents. Oh my God, are we becoming reality tv material?!! I don't know because I don't watch tv. I'd prefer to just go to hell in a handbasket.